


APH-Les Miserables Crossover (Super creative title right here)

by 0Rocky41_7



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Crossover, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-08 04:00:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/756803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0Rocky41_7/pseuds/0Rocky41_7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scotland has just been released from a 19 year prison sentence. Along his journey to redemption, he meets a colorful cast of characters including the desperate prostitute Taiwan and her young daughter Vietnam, a kindly Italian bishop and the German police officer chasing him. *Huge spoilers for Les Miserables*</p>
            </blockquote>





	APH-Les Miserables Crossover (Super creative title right here)

Jean Valjean-Scotland

Inspecter Javert- Germany

Bishop- Italy

Cosette- Vietnam

Fantine- Taiwan

Thenardier-England

Eponine-Belarus

Azelma-Ukraine

Madame Thenardier- Seychelles

Marius- America

Gavroche- Sealand

Enjolras-France

***

                Scotland paused on the road, looking towards the small town which he was approaching. The fresh air blew through his shaggy red hair and he turned his face up to feel the breeze across his dirty skin. He couldn’t believe he was truly walking free; his head spun with the enormity of the world and how much he had missed in it. He gripped his walking stick tighter and started down the hill, his feet shuffling to keep a grip on the dusty road. Perhaps there would be an opportunity for work in the town…

                Hours later, night was falling and Scotland had yet to find a place to stay.

                “This isn’t fair!” he snarled to himself. “They take one look at my parole card and brand me some kind of monster!”

                Furious, he stomped over to a bench and used his lumpy brown canvas sack as a pillow. He closed his eyes, trying to at least get some sleep, when someone poked him in the shoulder. He swatted at the hand without opening his eyes. The finger jabbed his shoulder again.

                “Would you bloody stop that?” Scotland snapped, opening his eyes. A hunched, gnarled old woman was staring suspiciously at him.

                “What are you doing here, you hooligan?” she rasped, gripping a cane with one hand, crippled with age.

                “Trying to get some damn sleep!”

                “Why are you on a bench?” she went on, tapping the cane on a bench leg.

                “Because I have nowhere else to sleep! I’ve asked all around town!” he growled, sitting up.

                “Have you asked there? The bishop lives there.” The woman pointed to an old house a ways down the road. It was simple and unassuming. Scotland shook his head. “Well go look!” the old woman demanded, hobbling away. Scotland glared at her retreating back for a moment before heaving himself off the bench. It was worth a try.

                His hulking frame filled up the doorway as he pounded the knocker against the door. His body was roped with muscle from the slave labor he’d done during his prison sentence. The door squeaked open and there stood an elderly man with graying brown hair and a strange, stray curl.

                “Hello?” he said, looking up at Scotland with kindly, peaceful auburn eyes.

                “I need a place to stay,” Scotland said, his voice low and reminiscent of a bear’s growl.

                “Well you can stay here,” the bishop said, throwing the door open wide.

                “Look!” Scotland thrust a yellow card into the man’s face. “I’m a convict. My name is Iain Brown. I spent 19 years in the Gallares.”

                The bishop shrugged. “That is between you and God. Please, come in.” He walked back into the darkness of the house, leaving the door open. Scotland’s thick eyebrows lifted in surprise. Reassuming his typical surly expression, he followed the man inside. The bishop led him down a candlelit hallway to a small room with a bed and some basic furniture.

                “You may sleep here for the night,” he said. Scotland had to stoop in order not to hit his head on the doorframe as he walked in and set his bag down. “Dinner will be ready shortly.” The bishop closed the door and shuffled away. Furrowing his brow as he watched the closed door, Scotland marveled that the man seemed unconcerned with his status as a dangerous criminal on parole. _Silly old man…he’s probably senile_ , Scotland thought.

                As the bishop had promised, he was called for dinner in just a half an hour. When he came into the dimly lit dining room, the bishop was already seated along with a thin elderly woman, whose eyes widened when he walked in. The table was set with silver utensils and candle holders. They were worth a fortune. Scotland regarded their faces for a moment before sitting heavily in one of the creaky wooden chairs.

                “This is our guest for the night,” the bishop said brightly. “His name is Iain Brown. He was in prison for nineteen years.” Scotland began to heap his plate with food and shovel it into his mouth.               

                “What did you do?” the woman asked in a tremulous voice.

                “Maybe I killed someone,” Scotland responded, tearing off a bite of chicken. The woman gasped in horror, one hand flying to her mouth. Scotland laughed.

                “I don’t think you did,” said the bishop.

                “Oh no?” Scotland raised an eyebrow. After a moment of silence he said, “No. I didn’t. I stole some bread.”

                “And they gave you nineteen years for that?” the woman asked.

                “I tried to escape,” Scotland said. “Five times.”

                The dinner conversation was scant after that and soon they all went off to bed. When the house was deep in sleep and the moon was high, Scotland crept from his bed. He stalked down the hall to the bishop’s room, where he relieved the old man of the silverware before fleeing into the night.

                The next morning, the bishop was working in the garden when Scotland was dragged onto the property by a pair of police.

                “Monsieur Bienvenue! We captured this thief with your silver!” announced one of them. Scotland struggled between them.

                “He claims you gave it to him,” scoffed the other. He threw the sack at the Italian’s feet.

                “I did,” the bishop said simply. Scotland stopped struggling. The bishop looked sharply at Scotland. “Iain, you forgot the candlesticks. You’ll need the money; why did you leave them? Madame, go and get them,” he said to the woman, who was raking up the weeds he’d pulled. She looked up with wide, questioning eyes. “Go on,” he insisted. She hurried off and returned with the silver candlesticks, which the bishop slid into Scotland’s sack before handing it back to him. “Please, monsieurs. Your conduct has been admirable, but let the gentleman go. He has done no wrong.”

                The police released Scotland, who was rigid with shock. “I don’t understand,” he said when the guards had gone.

                “Listen to me, Iain,” the bishop said. “I have bought your soul for God. From now on, you are a good man. You will not steal anymore.”

                Scotland nodded dumbly, unable to believe this change in fate. It had thrown him into utter turmoil-how could he go about his life of crime and hate towards the world when this man had singularly changed his life? Even after Scotland had done him such a blatant wrong? Perhaps there was a merciful God after all…

***

                Taiwan’s feet throbbed with pain. She had been walking all day and her arms were weary from carrying her small child. However, when she glanced down at Vietnam’s plump cheeks and cheery face, she couldn’t help but smile. It didn’t matter that her father had abandoned them-Taiwan would love Vietnam enough for both parents. She would take care of her darling little girl. She just needed to find some work…as they walked through the outskirts of Paris, she came across a pair of pale young girls playing outside an inn. A brown-haired woman sat on the stoop, smoking and watching the girls.  Taiwan paused by her.

                “Are those your girls?” she asked. The woman looked up.           

                “Yeah. S’ Ukraine and Belarus,” she grunted, thumbing towards the girls. Taiwan smiled at them. The thought of someone their age to play with her sweet Vietnam filled her with a warm joy. Suddenly, she was possessed of an idea.

                “Excuse me, Madame,” she said politely, setting Vietnam down. “I am in a bit of a quandary. You see, the father of my child has left us. I am going West to look for work, but I find it hard to care for my daughter. If she could stay here with you, I would send you money each month to care for her. It would make her ever so happy to play with your little girls.”

                Madame Seychelles narrowed her eyes, contemplating Vietnam as she watched Ukraine and Belarus play. At last Seychelles nodded.

                “Yes. I will take the child.”

                “Oh, thank you so much!” gushed Taiwan. “I will return for her as soon as I’ve found work!” She kissed Vietnam’s head and left her with Seychelles and her two girls, promising to return as soon as she possibly could.

***

                Taiwan could feel the factory foreman’s lustful gaze on her as she stood over her work. She refused to turn her head and acknowledge him, feeling a profound sense of relief when she was called away. She was handed a letter, which she quickly scanned, feeling a cold rock settle in her stomach. Vietnam was ill again; the Thénardiers needed more money for her medicine.  Clutching the letter in one hand, Taiwan walked back to her work station, her head low.

                “Meimei! What’s that you’ve got?” One of the factory girls snatched Taiwan’s letter.

                “No, please-!” Too late. The girl’s eyes widened as she took in the message the letter gave. Taiwan made a grab for it anyway, but the girl pushed her back.

                “Eh! Meimei’s got a kid!” she shouted.

                “Give that letter back; it’s none of your business!” Taiwan yelled, lunging for her letter. The girl handed it off to another woman.

                “She isn’t married!”

“The little whore!”

                “I don’t want to share a work station with her!”

                In desperation, Taiwan dove at the woman holding the letter and a scuffle ensued. At that moment, the mayor walked through the door.

                “What’s the racket in here?” he asked, looking around. “What is this fighting all about? Ladies, please, settle down!” He glanced to the foreman. “I have business in town; I look to you to sort this out and be as patient as you can.” With that, he departed.

                “What’s going on here?” Prussia the foreman asked.

                “It’s all her fault!” declared the girl who had first taken Taiwan’s letter. “There’s a kid she’s hiding in some little town! She probably earns her keep sleeping around!”

                “And that’s not the kind of thing the mayor would condone,” added another woman.

                “She’s always causing trouble and breaking things!” put in someone else.

                “She’s been laughing at you while she has all her men!” Prussia glared furiously at Taiwan.

                “Oh, I should have known! Little Meimei, always so pure and good! You may act a virgin in the night but surely need no urging in the night! Get out!” He pointed towards the door and Taiwan knew she had to swallow her pride.

                “Please sir. It’s true, there is a girl and she is my daughter. Her father abandoned us leaving us with nothing. She lives with an innkeeper and his wife; I send them money to sustain her. Please, sir, she’s taken ill and I need this job to pay for her medicine,” Taiwan begged.

                “It’s too late for that, you trollop,” Prussia spat. “This is what you get for being incapable of keeping your knees together! OUT!”

                Nearly in tears, Taiwan fled from the hating gazes of the woman who had accepted her ‘till now. How would she feed Vietnam now?

***

                Three days in, Taiwan sold her only bit of jewelry-her favorite necklace to get money for Vietnam. The money she got for it wouldn’t have paid for the chain.

                Three weeks in, Taiwan sold her beloved hair, which had once made her so proud. She got ten francs for it.

                Three months in, she let a doctor yank out her two front teeth for twenty francs to send to Vietnam.

                When she had sold all she had, she joined the town brothel.

                One day, there was a fight. A passing man wanted to take her to bed, but she refused. He called her an ugly slut and shoved snow down the front of her dress. Enraged, Taiwan threw herself at him, her little fists flailing. The man shouted for the police and Police Inspector Germany came running.

                “What’s the substance of this brawl?” he bellowed, his mere presence causing the various criminals and prostitutes shrink in fear. “Someone who saw it all-tell me what’s gone on! Who laid hands on this good man here?”

                “I was just passing here when this prostitute attacked me!” the man exclaimed.

                “No, sir, please!” Taiwan wailed. “Don’t arrest me please! I have a daughter who sorely needs me! Holy God is there no mercy? If I go to jail she’ll die!”

                “I’ve heard excuses like that for twenty years,” Germany scoffed. “Let’s have no more fuss-save your breath and save your tears.”

                Taiwan collapsed on her knees in the muddy snow, her breast-exposed in her prostitute’s dress- bright red with cold and heaving with unshed tears. Her shorn hair stuck to her neck with chilled sweat.

                “No…please…my daughter!” Germany moved to put handcuffs on her.

                “Inspector, a moment please!” a voice broke in. Both turned to see the mayor approaching. “I saw the whole thing…this woman needs a doctor, not a jail.”

                “But monsieur le mayor!” Germany protested.

                “She’s terribly ill-look at her!” scolded Angus gently.

                “Don’t mock me,” Taiwan snarled. “You did this to me! You let your foreman send me away! You pig!” She staggered to her feet and spat on his face. Instantly, Germany struck her across the face, making her stumble.

                “Inspector!”

                “She spat on you,” Germany panted, anger making the color rise in his cheeks. “In my presence, she defiled you. This whore will not repent-she must pay for her crimes.”

                “I am the mayor here,” Angus said seriously. “I say she goes free!” He gazed sadly at Taiwan. “Your face is familiar…my poor woman, forgive me!”

                “She cannot! Take her away,” Germany commanded his men. Taiwan snapped her head back and forth between the two men, confusion clouding her face.

                “No! Let her go!” Angus ordered.

                “But monsieur le mayor!”

                “Inspector!” Angus lost his temper at last. “If I must dismiss you, I will!”

                “But monsieur le mayor-” Germany began. His job meant everything to him-he could not abide by letting anyone, even this pathetic trollop, get away with a crime.

                “You are dismissed, Inspector!” Angus bellowed. Germany was puce with rage, but he had gotten his order. He threw his helmet down and strode away.

                Angus offered Taiwan his hand and led her to the hospital, where the nuns would care for her. He visited her often and even began to teach her how to read (which he was secretly learning himself). Even so, Taiwan remained extremely sick and was constantly distressed over Taiwan. Seychelles and her husband England were sending increasingly demanding letters, upwards of 40 francs for Vietnam. Angus knew something had to be done.

***

                “Monsieur le Mayor!” cried a man, bursting into Angus’ office. “There’s a man trapped under a cart in the square! You have to come right away!” Angus leaped to his feet.

                “Show me the way,” he commanded, following after the man. In the square, a large crowd was gathered around an old man who was trapped beneath his cart. No wanted to pull on the cart, for fear of crushing the man further. Angus hurried forward and braced his back against the cart, gripping it with both hands. “Get ready!” he shouted. A few village men moved towards the cart. Angus strained and pulled and lifted the massive cart off of the man, muscles bulging in his arms and thighs as he strained. The men quickly dragged the victim out and Angus set the cart down. They carted the old man off to the hospital and Angus was left to wipe the sweat from his brow. Slowly, the crowd dispersed.

                But one man remained. A tall, sturdy blonde, dressed in a police officer’s uniform. He was staring intently at the mayor, who gave him a questioning look.

                “Can I help you?” he asked, sweeping his short red hair back.

                “No…” the officer shook his head, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Only…you make me think of someone…No, forgive me sir, I wouldn’t dare.”

                “Go ahead, don’t leave it there,” the mayor said. “Please, monsieur.” Again, the officer hesitated, but then spoke.

                “I have only known one other man…who can do what you have done. He’s a convict broke parole; he’s been ten years on the run. But now at last I’ve caught him; we’ve found his hideaway. No one can run forever; no not even Iain Brown.”

                Scotland-for that was the true identity of Mayor Angus-paled. Looking at the man, he felt a cold rush of recognition.

                “T-this man,” Scotland managed. “W-what was his crime?”

                “He stole bread and broke parole after 19 years in the Gallares,” Inspector Ludwig said. “I was a young officer at the time and I saw him there…he was possessed of incredible strength…I’ve been chasing after him for ten years. But, as I said…you could not possibly be he, we have caught him a ways down in Digne.”

                “And has he confessed to his crime?” Scotland asked. The Inspector shook his head.

                “No, he plays the part of a fool. He answers the questions with completely irrelevant answers and insists he is not Brown,” said Ludwig, clearly disgusted.

                “You say he claims he is not Brown and gives no sign of understanding…given that information, how can you be sure that I am not your man?” Scotland asked seriously.

                “This man we found stealing apples,” Germany said. “Brown has a history of thievery. He goes to trial in three days’ time. And to make the matter certain, there’s the brand upon his skin.”

                Scotland nodded, swallowing and walked off, back towards his office. Inspector Germany watched him curiously, but resumed his patrol despite the mayor’s odd behavior.

                Back in his office, Scotland paced relentlessly. After saving two children from a burning building, he had been elected mayor of this small town. He had established a factory, with separate work spheres for men and women. Thanks to this, the little town was now thriving. The villagers depended on him to take care of them! But…if what the inspector said was true…how could he let another man take the blame for his crime? He had promised Bishop Feliciano that he would give his life to good…

***

                In the end, Scotland knew he could not go on and live his life a lie, forever to forgo the man he had been. He visited Taiwan once more and then rode off to the place where the trial was being held. Halfway there, his carriage hit a rut and broke up. He sought someone to fix it, but no one was available. At last he found a man to lend him his horse to get to the trial. When he informed the guards of his identity-as Angus-he was immediately given a choice seat to watch the trial unfold. The man was brought forth. Three men who had been in prison with Scotland were given a good look at him and told to identify the man. Each announced with certainty: “That’s Iain Brown alright!”

                The judge was close to making his decision now…he had to speak or hold his tongue…

                Scotland leaped up. “Wait!” he yelled. Everyone startled and turned to look at him. Scotland strode from his place and stood before the three convicts. “I know you all and you know me,” he said. Their eyes grew wide and Scotland turned to the judge. “That man is innocent,” he said, pointing to the accused. “He must be! I am Iain Brown!” He tore his shirt open and revealed his former prison number “24601” tattooed across his chest.

                The room was silent with shock. Scotland recalled he had one last duty to take care of. He strode down the aisle and out of the building, taking the steps two at a time and leaping onto his horse, riding double time back to the village.

                He burst into the hospital and Taiwan jerked her head up, her eyes alight.

                “Have you news of Chi?” she asked eagerly. Scotland shook his head. He knelt beside Taiwan’s bed and took her hand.

                “My dear Meimei. Tell me where exactly your daughter is being kept. I will go and fetch her for you,” he said.

                “You’ll do no such thing,” came a commanding voice. Scotland turned to see Inspector Ludwig standing in the doorway, flanked by three more police officers.

                “Inspector, please,” Scotland began, rising to his feet.

                “No. I knew it. I knew it all along,” Germany hissed, stalking towards Scotland. “I should have recognized you sooner…” Scotland tried to draw Germany away from Taiwan to speak with him.

                “Please, Meimei is very sick. Give me three days to go and bring her child back. I’ll return, you have my word,” he said in a low voice.

                “Do you think I’m stupid?” Germany snarled. “No! No you can’t go fetch things for your whore!” He looked past Scotland to Taiwan. “Whatever he’s promised you, it won’t happen! He’s not really a mayor! He’s just a lousy thief! A convict! A criminal!”

                “Ludwig, stop!” Scotland grabbed Germany’s arm as he approached Taiwan’s bed. Germany responded by spinning around and decking Scotland in the jaw. Taiwan screamed and began to thrash around on the bed. She was never going to see Vietnam again! The nun who cared for her desperately tried to calm the hysterical woman. In a rage, Scotland grabbed Germany by his hair and slammed his head repeatedly into the wall until he slumped to the ground, bloody and unconscious. He glared at the other officers and knelt once more by Taiwan.     

                “Chi…” the woman rasped. “Chi…it’s late…you must come inside now…come here and I’ll sing you a lullaby…”

                “Meimei, listen to me,” Scotland said, turning her face to look at him. She smiled dimly, her eyes distant and troublingly unfocused.

                “Angus…you’ve been so kind to me…” Taiwan raised a hand to rest it against his cheek. He took her hand and patted it. “Please…take my Chi…she needs someone to care for her…”

                “I will,” Scotland promised. “I swear as long as I live, no harm will come to Chi. I will see that she has everything she needs.”

                “Monsieur, you come from God in Heaven,” Taiwan said, tears welling in her eyes. “Please stay until I’m asleep…and tell Chi I love her and I’ll see her when I wake.” Scotland nodded, watching her eyes close. The nun suddenly gasped; behind Scotland, Germany rose to his feet and soundly thumped Scotland on the back of the head with his knight stick. The former mayor collapsed, unconscious. The last breath left Taiwan’s body, her breast settled and her soul fled the room.

                And with that, Germany had captured Scotland at last.

***

                Vietnam was sweeping the kitchen, singing softly to herself when Seychelles walked in. She had gotten horribly portly since Vietnam had first joined the household-she had to squeeze herself tightly through the smallest doorframes of the old inn.

                “Chi! Go and fetch water from the well,” she demanded. Vietnam looked up with wide brown eyes. Her dress was filthy and tattered; her shoes were falling to bits and she hadn’t bathed since she had gone swimming in the summer.

                “Please don’t send me out there, Madame,” she pleaded. “It’s dark and scary!”

                “You heard me ask for something and I never ask twice!” Seychelles started towards Vietnam. “Go and fetch the water or I’ll beat you black and blue!”

                Vietnam, trembling with terror, nodded her head and hurried off as fast as her little legs could carry her, the large bucket banging against her knees.

***

                When Vietnam returned, she was not alone. There was a man carrying the bucket, following her closely. Upon reaching the inn, he handed the bucket to Seychelles.

                “I found her wandering around in the dark, terrified,” he said. “She told me she lived here.” He took note of a pair of well-dressed girls at the other end of the room, playing with dolls. “When does she get to play?” he asked, watching as Vietnam took up her broom and resumed sweeping.

                “Play? She doesn’t like to play,” Seychelles said. “Her no-good mother is supposed to pay us to keep her but she hasn’t in ages.” The man took out a few bills and handed them to Seychelles.

                “Here Let her go play.” Vietnam perked up.

                “Is it true Madame? May I go play?” she asked eagerly. Seychelles grunted assent and Vietnam fetched her own doll-a spindly thing of twigs and an old spoon-from beneath the stairs. She didn’t attempt to join the other two girls, but remained by herself, quietly playing alone.

                The man ordered a drink and watched Vietnam. While he drank, a dirty man with massive eyebrows sidled into the room.

                “Good sir, you look weary,” he said, leering at the man. “Do let me rent you a room! Kirkland is my name-you won’t find a better inn in all of Paris!” The guest shook his head.

                “No, I do not need a room…but I am interested in that girl there.” He pointed to Vietnam. “How much must I pay you to take her away?”

                “Ah…you can’t put a price on our little girl,” said England, shaking his head in exaggerated emotion.  “We share everything we have with her! There isn’t anything you could pay me to have her!” Wordlessly, the stranger slapped a wad of bills on the table, just out of England’s reach. His green eyes widened in greed; he was nearly drooling.

                “Well now…that might just fit the bill,” he said smoothly. “If she hadn’t so often been ill!” Rolling his eyes, the stranger added a pile of coins.

                “Chi!” called England. “Come here!” Vietnam snapped to attention in front of the blond. “You belong to that man now,” he told her, pointing to the stranger. Vietnam’s eyes widened. The man smiled and held his hand out.

                “Come here, Chi,” he said warmly. “Let us depart from this place.” Vietnam hesitated only a moment before she ran to Scotland-for he was the stranger, recently escaped from prison again-and took his hand. Together they walked off into the darkness.

***

                “Now keep watch!” Belarus had been instructed. She stood sentinel while her father conducted his robbery.

                “Hey Natalia!” shouted a familiar voice. She turned with wide eyes to see America running towards her.

                “No! America go away!” she told him.

                “What’s going on?” he asked, his brilliant blue eyes wide as he caught up with her.

                “You won’t understand!” Belarus replied. It was true, he wouldn’t-America came from a wealthy family. He attended college and was involved in various activities. Belarus had nothing-her family had fallen far and only got by with criminal activity now. She tried to turn away and run after her family, but America followed. But he bumped into someone else. As he opened his mouth to apologize, he fell silent. She was easily the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen…he was speechless. Belarus watched in horror from a few yards away.

                “Pardon me mademoiselle,” America said slowly, bowing to her. “I didn’t see you there…” Before she could reply, the aging man who accompanied her took her arm and pulled her off towards the building. In the courtyard he was met by a familiar face-England.

                “Excuse me sir!” he drawled. “Please spare a sous…God rewards all the good that you do…” He held out his hands. But then he took a closer look at the man’s face. “Hey…I know you…you’re the bastard who took Chi!”

                “Sir, you don’t know what you do!” Scotland protested as England’s band of criminals surrounded them.

                “You know me, you know me!” England asserted. “I’m a con just like you!”

                “Everyone, drop it!” Belarus interrupted. “Everybody run! It’s the police! Get underground-it’s Ludwig!” The cons scattered like leaves, fleeing in terror. Scotland’s eyes grew wide and he grabbed Vietnam’s arm, rushing off as well, lest old Inspector Ludwig catch sight of him.

                Germany turned to England, who had failed to get away. “What’s going on here? Who was that man and why on Earth did he run?”

                “No more proof when you catch him than the brand upon his skin!” England said. “He’s the one you should arrest!”

                Germany’s face took on a dangerous, plotting look. “Could it be?” he murmured to himself. “Could it be he’s some old jailbird the tide now washes in? Could it be he’s Iain Brown?”

***

                America followed after Belarus like a puppy as she led him to Vietnam’s house with a sinking heart.

                “Don’t you have to meet with Francis and the others tonight?” she asked in desperation. America was involved in a young revolutionary group whose purpose was to overthrow the monarchy. He spent most afternoons and evenings planning with them or speaking in public forums.

                “Not tonight,” America said, smiling at Belarus.

“Aren’t you almost ready to set things in motion?” Belarus went on.

“Francis says we need a sign,” America said. “Something to bring the people together.” Feeling utterly wretched, Belarus stopped outside the gardens to Vietnam’s large house.

                “She’s in there,” she said. “Be careful.” America nodded.

                “Thank you so much Natalia!” he gushed, slipping into the gate. Vietnam was in the window and saw him come in. She hurried away and reappeared around the side of the house. They met in a corner of the garden, just staring at each other for a long moment.

                “My name’s Alfred,” America said at last. “Alfred F. Jones.”

                “I’m Chi,” Vietnam replied. “Chi Brown.”

                “You have a beautiful name,” America said softly. “It matches your face.”

                While the two lovebirds conversed in the garden, Belarus’ agony of listening to her love confess to someone else was interrupted by the sight of a group of men approaching the house. She was surprised to see her father at the head.

                “Natalia?” he asked, equally surprised when he saw her. “Get out, we’re enough here without you. We don’t need your help.”

                “I know this place,” Belarus said. “There’s nothing here for you. Just the old man and the girl.”

                “Ah, she’s going soft!” accused one of the men.

                “Happens to all of ‘em...”

                “Natalia, get out of here,” England said seriously.

                “No!” she said defiantly. “You leave! Or I’m gonna scream! I’m gonna warn them!”

                “One scream and you’ll regret it for a year,” England snarled. Belarus silently counted to three. When the men didn’t move, she parted her jaws and let loose with a blood-curdling scream. “You little brat!” England shrieked. “I’m gonna make you pay for that scream-you’ll scream alright!” The group fled once more and America burst out of the gates.

                “Natalia! Are you alright?”

                “We have to go!” Belarus grabbed America’s hand and dragged him down the street, running in the opposite direction.

                “Chi! Chi, what’s going on? I heard a scream!” Scotland rushed out of the house and into the garden.

                “That was my cry you heard, Papa,” Chia said, smoothing her skirts. “I saw three men in the shadows…they were coming towards me and I was scared, so I screamed. It scared them away.”

                Scotland paled. Men approaching the house? It had to be Ludwig! They had to get out…

***

                America and the ABC club were in the attic of their usual pub, discoursing loudly when Sealand burst into the room.               

                “Hey!” he squeaked. No one listened. “Listen everybody!” he shouted as loud as he could. The room fell silent and everyone turned to look at him. “General Lamarque is dead.” General Lamarque-the only man in the government who had ever spoken for the poor. Now he was gone.

                “General Lamarque.” Unsurprisingly, Francis spoke first. He was the leader of the ABC club-with his Apollonian good looks and charming yet commanding personality, he was the obvious choice. “His death will not go unnoticed. The funeral. That is when we must begin the revolution. A glorious new France will rise up like the sun!” He raised his pistol into the air and the ABC club cheered.

***

                The day of Larmarque’s funeral, the people swarmed the procession, blind with fury. The royal guard stormed the place on horseback, driving out the revolutionaries. Back in America’s neighborhood, they build up a barricade in the road and prepared to meet the Emperor’s soldiers. As they gathered on the first floor of the building closest to their barricade, America noticed a strange boy standing by the door. He approached and recognized the boy.

                “Natalia! What are you doing here? It’s dangerous!” he cried in a hushed whisper.

                “I know this is no place for me, but I’d rather be with you,” Belarus confided.

                “Good God Natalia, have you no fear?”

                “I’ve got you worried now I have!” Belarus said with a tiny smirk. “That shows you like me quite a lot!”

                “Oh, Natalia! There is something you can do!” America exclaimed suddenly. He pulled a folded square of paper from his pocket. “Please take this letter to Chi! I pray to God she’s still there...” Belarus’s face fell, but she took the letter, fixing her dismayed gaze on the ground.

                “You see so little,” she said. “You care only for your narrow view of the world!” She turned and hurried out of the barricade, clutching the letter.

“Alfred!” France snapped from where he stood at a table. “We need to know what the enemy is planning! Get over here!”

“I can help,” someone else said. They all turned to see a poorly-dressed man with a shock of pale blond hair. “I have served in their ranks; I can sneak in and see what they plan!”

France nodded. “Very well. Go now and tell us what you find!”

Germany-disguised as a commoner-slipped off, triumph swelling in his breast.

Belarus made her way through the streets-silent and thick with tension. The whole city of Paris seemed to be holding its breath.

                When she knocked on the door, Scotland answered.

                “Yes?”

                “I have this letter for your daughter,” Belarus replied. “It’s from a boy at the barricade, sir, at the Rue de Valet.”

                “Give me that letter here, my lad,” Scotland said, reaching his hand out.

                “He said to give it to Chi,” she said, holding it back.

                “You have my word my daughter will know what this letter contains,” Scotland promised. Reluctantly, Belarus laid the letter in his hand. With that done, she departed back towards the barricade.

***

                “He’s back!” someone shouted. Germany returned to the group of men.

                “I have overheard their plans! They will not attack tonight. They plan to starve us out before they start a proper fight. They’ll hit us from the right!” he announced.

                “LIAR!” Everyone spun and saw Sealand saunter over. “Good evening Inspector, lovely evening. I know this man my friends: His name’s Inspector Ludwig! So don’t believe a word he says, ‘cause none of it’s true.”

                “Bravo little Peter, you’re the top of the class!” France declared. “But what are we going to do with this snake in the grass?” Various plans were shouted out by the men.

                “Shoot me now or shoot me later, every schoolboy to his sport!” Germany said as they grabbed ahold of him, binding his limbs. “You cannot win this fight; you know nothing of running a country!”

                They hauled Germany into their makeshift headquarters and bound him to a post, where they left him to go and face the approaching troops.

                America was in the heat of battle when he saw a familiar face flash before him. Belarus! He grabbed her arm and dragged her off into a nearby alleyway.

                “Natalia! What are you doing here?” he cried. “There’s something on your hand…Oh, God, it’s everywhere!” Belarus smiled dimly and slumped over. America caught her and gently lowered her to the ground. He spotted a hole in her hand…tracing its path he saw it had gone through to her chest. She had put her hand right over a gun about to slay America.

                “I took the letter like you said…” she said. Blood oozed from the corner of her mouth, drooling down her chin. America tenderly wiped it away.

                “Natalia…you can’t die now!” he begged, a lump tightening in his throat. “Please…”

                “Shh…” Belarus raised her hand weakly and pressed her fingers over his lips. “Don’t worry about me…”

                “But Natalia!” Tears blurred America’s vision; he had to remove his glasses to wipe them away, but they were immediately replaced. “Oh, God…you’d live a thousand years if I could show you how!”

                “You know, Alfred…” Belarus’ words were punctuated by rough coughing. “I think I was a little bit in love with you…”

***

                At last, silence fell over the battlefield. The rebels were out of bullets.

                “What are we going to do?” cried Spain. “We’re out of ammo!” Sealand saw his chance.

                “I can do it!” He grabbed a basket and before anyone could stop him, he scrambled over the barricade and began to snatch up fallen bullets from the space between the soldiers and the barricade.

                “No! Peter come back!” France called.

                “Get out of there Peter!”

                “Get behind the barricade!”

                Sealand ignored them all and kept scooping up bullets. The soldiers began to take potshots at him, but he dodged nimbly and kept moving, singing a song loudly to mock them. Suddenly, he froze as one of the bullets hit its mark. However, he didn’t stop. He kept on with his harvest until a second bullet struck him. Then he collapsed on the ground, unmoving.

                “No! Peter!” America wailed.

***

                Scotland had been outraged to find out that Vietnam had secretly been seeing this boy Alfred for weeks. He called her down and they had the worst fight they had ever had. But he realized that if Alfred made Vietnam happy-he couldn’t deny her that. So he put on his heavy coat and left for the barricade. When he arrived, things were in full swing.

                “Who are you?” France demanded when he saw Scotland. “You wear an army uniform!”

                “That’s why they let me through,” Scotland said, throwing his hands up. He had taken the uniform from a fallen soldier. “I’m here to help.” France frowned.

                “Wait over there.” He pointed. Scotland went over to the corner and was shocked to see Germany tied to a post, watching him.

                “So. Here we are,” the Inspector said shortly. When France returned, he handed Scotland a gun.

                “Here. If you shoot us in the back, you’ll never live to tell. Go take care of this one!” He nudged Germany with his foot. “Take him out back.” Scotland nodded and freed Germany from the post, pushing Germany out the back door at gunpoint. When they made it into the back alley, Scotland immediately set the gun aside and began to saw through Germany’s bonds.

                “Going to stab me instead?” Germany asked bitterly. “How right you should kill with a knife!”

                “Be quiet. Your life is safe in my hands,” Scotland assured him.

                “I see. You want a deal. My life for yours,” Germany said. Scotland sighed and shook his head.

                “You are wrong, and always have been wrong,” Scotland said. He stepped back. “Go, get out of here.”

                Germany turned to look at him in confusion. “I do not understand. You know I will not let you go. I will not give up the chase.”

                Scotland shrugged and gave Germany his address. “Now go.” Germany hesitated, but took off after a moment. Scotland picked up the gun and fired it into the air. Then he went back inside.

***

                The battle was done. Every last barricader had been killed. Scotland picked his way through the bodies until he found America. He knelt down and examined the boy-his chest rose and fell, ever so slightly. Scooping him up, Scotland slung America over his shoulder and hurried down the alley nearby. He opened up the sewer and dropped down into it. He started down the sewer line, carrying America through the muck and the sludge.

                When he at last approached the exit, there was someone else crouching there. England, who had fled the police down the same exit Scotland needed to get out. In the darkness, Scotland didn’t recognize England, who offered him the key to get out. As he squeezed out of the opening, England cut a length from America’s coat. When Scotland had gotten them both out, he turned to the road, only to see Inspector Ludwig standing there.

                “I warned you,” he said. Scotland sagged in defeat.

                “Please. Let me just take this boy home,” he requested. “He is injured and has done no wrong.” Germany seemed to have a temporary quandary, but at last he nodded. He called a carriage and joined Scotland and America in the carriage.

                When they arrived at the house, Vietnam rushed outside and they carried America inside. When the doctor was there and Scotland saw that the boy was to be tended to, he returned to the carriage, only to find that Germany was gone.

***

                Germany felt his whole world was falling apart. He was wrong. He had been wrong. He-who had based his entire life off of a single, carved in stone set of principles-had been wrong. There was nothing left in this world for him then. He walked through Paris, making his way towards the office. He left a note there, including several points which he thought were important for the prefecture. He signed the note with his resignation and continued on to the Seine.

                He stood on the bridge, looking into the icy swirl of water. From his pocket, he drew his handcuffs. He locked his wrists into them and climbed into the edge of the bridge. He closed his eyes and leaped into the water. There was a splash and the dark, deadly water closed over his head.

***

                In the spring, when America had healed, he and Vietnam were married. Scotland attended, but seemed melancholy. At last, several months after their marriage had taken place, he drew America aside.

                “There is something you must know, my lad,” he said. “Of my past. Something that Chi does not know.”

                America tilted his head to one side. “What is it?” He had to this point treated Vietnam’s father like his own, welcoming him gladly into their lives.     

                “A long time ago, there was a man. His name was Iain Brown. He stole some bread, to save his sister’s son. For nineteen years he labored in the Gallares for his crime. They took away his name and gave him the number 24601. Years ago, he broke parole and changed his name to start a new life. That was me. My true name is Iain Brown. I never told Chi-how could I? It would break her heart,” Scotland said.

                America’s eyes widened. “You’re a convict?” he breathed. Scotland nodded.

                “And now, I must depart. Tell Chi I have gone on a voyage a long ways away-tell her my heart was too full for farewells.” America shook his head.

                “I cannot. Whatever I tell my beloved Chi she will never believe!” he protested.

                “You must make her believe it,” Scotland said. America reluctantly agreed and Scotland departed.

                Weeks went by and Vietnam accepted-painfully-that her father had left her. She didn’t understand and was hurt, but she loved America dearly and was able to get by. However, at a party they threw over the summer, America was approached by a strange pair.

                The man was a stout blonde with thick eyebrows and a gold tooth. The woman was portly, with dark brown hair and an appalling pink dress on.

                “Kirkland!” America exclaimed, recognizing the criminal who had tried to scam Vietnam’s father.

                “I told you this wouldn’t work,” Seychelles grumbled to England. “Just tell him what you’ve come here to tell him!” England drew America close and began to confide in him.

                “I couldn’t help but notice a fellow at your wedding whom I recognized. Iain Brown-your lovely bride’s father, I believe. Now…one beautiful night I was making my way down the street and I saw Brown coming towards me with an ugly old corpse hanging over his shoulder like some bloody great sack. I have a scrap of the jacket here,” England said, taking out the bit of America’s coat he’d cut free the night he encountered Scotland in the sewer. “And mark this too-it was the night that the barricade fell.”

                America’s eyed grew wide. He took the scrap from England. “I know this…this was mine! Iain Brown was my savior that night! Chi!” he called his wife to him. “Chi, come with me, I’ve made a terrible mistake!” He threw a small purse of coins at England. “God forgive us the things that we do.”

                He took Vietnam’s hand and pulled her away, stuffing them both into a carriage and making off for Scotland’s home just as fast as he could. He explained to Vietnam on the way and when they reached Scotland’s house, they threw open the door, racing up to the bedroom where Scotland lay. He was pale and his chest rose and fell only shallowly. He opened his eyes when he heard them come in and confusion flooded his gaze.

                “Chi…Alfred…what are you doing here?” he croaked.

                “Iain, you have to forgive me,” America cried, running to fall by Scotland’s bedside. “Kirkland told me what happened…you saved my life that night!”

                “I did what was right,” Scotland said.

                “Papa, how could you leave us?” Vietnam exclaimed. “We love you no matter what!” She knelt on Scotland’s other side, taking his hand.

                “You told her?”

                “I had to!” America said. “I can’t hide things from Chi. What you did all those years ago…it doesn’t matter! You’re still a good person!” A tremulous smile spread across Scotland’s face.

                “Come here, both of you…I am glad you are here, now.”

                “Papa, don’t say that,” Vietnam said uneasily. “It sounds like you’re saying goodbye!” Scotland gave her a long look. “No! Papa you can’t go!” the young woman wailed.

                “My child…I cannot change what God has designed,” Scotland said gently, putting a hand on her head.

                “You can’t die, Papa, you can’t!” Vietnam squeezed his hand, tears welling in her eyes. Scotland gave a weak laugh.

                “Yes, Chi…forbid me now to die. I obey. I will try,” he said.

                “You will come and live with us!” America declared. “You can be a father to us both!” A peaceful smile settled on Scotland’s face. He patted their hands and sank back into the pillows. The breath left his body and Vietnam bent over his hand, weeping. America, in shock, crossed over and put his arm around her.

                “As surely as the sun rises,” he murmured. “He was the greatest man I have ever known.”

 


End file.
